It’s the last day of 2012 and here is a sight that interrupted my afternoon coffee:
Rushed downstairs to shoo them off because gurl, you are homeless and can’t afford to have babies:
LMF, you perv.
I thought about recapping my 2012 but honestly, I had a pretty shitty year. A ton of good stuff happened (like Hanson and getting LMF), but I am not where I want to be and isn’t that the only thing that matters?
Over the course of tonight, when I’m blitzed on margaritas and wine (trying to keep it classy today), I am probably going to feel that very cliche spark of hope and sentimentally tell myself that 2013 will be better; that I am going to make 2013 My Year! And fuck you, 2012, what did I ever do to you? But right now, I’m as cynical and angsty as a teenager who watched Dawson’s Creek a little too early for her own good so I’m just going to step out of my head for a bit, make myself cute as fuck, and get wasteypants.
Because things won’t magically change when the clock strikes 12. I’m still going to wake up the same person in the same situation tomorrow as I did today, only with a massive hangover and an inability to get out of bed. And that’s okay, I guess! I’ll have the rest of my life to get my shit together.
Happy New Year, you guys!